


Flagstaff

by entirely_the_wrong_sort



Series: The Early Years: Drabbles [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Pre-Stanford
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-15 21:57:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7240048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entirely_the_wrong_sort/pseuds/entirely_the_wrong_sort
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That time Sam ran away to Flagstaff under Dean’s watch, was the worst night of Dean's life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flagstaff

Dean swerves up to the verge and leans out of the Toyota he’s stolen to throw up again. After a few retches that bring up nothing but bile that stings his nose, he wipes his mouth and closes his streaming eyes to the world, stopping for the first time in eight hours straight to try and calm down. The early morning air is bitterly cold in his tight lungs and it does nothing to calm his churning guts or still his reeling mind.

He feels his phone buzz on the empty seat beside him and his eyes fly open faster than lightning. His hand shakes so violently, he can barely flip the damn thing open. When he sees the missed call from dad’s number, his heart crashes into his gut and he feels the bile rise back up in his throat immediately. He almost drops it when it buzzes again in his hand. A text message. Dean actually laughs aloud with relief that it wasn’t a call. He doesn’t think he could answer it; couldn’t hear his dad’s voice and pretend that everything is okay, nor be able to tell him that Sammy is gone.

He opens the SMS: _heading back. 2 hrs. be ready to leave_

He reads it several times to process it, the words swimming through his vision. Fuck, he’s out of time. Dad is coming back to Rexburg and Dean hasn’t found Sam. 

He’s going to kill him.

Dean witnessed his home burn down with his mother still inside; has been strangled by ghosts; was nearly buried alive twice. He’s looked the most evil of monsters in the eyes as he’s sunk knives into their chests… but he has never in his life been as terrified as he is in this moment.

 _Look after your little brother, Dean,_ his father’s voice echoes over and over in his brain, _watch out for Sammy_. That was his one and only job and he couldn’t do it. Sam was his purpose, his only attribute. Dad has no need for a son who can’t follow one simple order; he’d hunt better on his own without Sam’s constant resistance and Dean’s deadweight. He’s useless now, not even his little brother needs him. Is he such bad company, so inattentive to his brother’s needs, so _easy_ to walk away from..?

He sits for twenty minutes with his hands clutching tight on the steering wheel, listening to the hum of the patient engine and the rushing of cars that fly past him on the road, oblivious to his plight. Perhaps he should spare Dad the trouble of kicking him out and just leave too. God, it would be so easy to go. To just drive and keep driving. To run away, like Sam…

He wonders if this is how it happened. If Sam had sat on the side of the road in a stolen car searching for Dean - who’d been hustling pool in a dive bar all night - and thought to himself _it would be so easy_ … God, who was he kidding? That was probably Sammy’s mantra, his nighttime prayer. He probably never even looked back. Dean’s probably left sixty-seven missed calls to a fucking dumpster somewhere in Utah.

The siren of a police car blares shrilly past the window and snaps Dean back into the present. The engine is still humming patiently, his foot still hovering over the accelerator. It would be so easy… but no. He can’t do it. He can’t run away from his mistakes. He’s fucked up - royally fucked up - and he deserves everything that’s coming to him, _of course_ he does. But he can’t be like Sam, can’t abandon dad. He needs to be there for him, whatever happens.

Dean takes an ineffectual steadying breath, wipes his nose and the tears from his cheeks, and pulls back onto the road to the motel.


End file.
